What Hurts the Most
by BrokenWingsDontFly
Summary: She'd always been a sucker for happy endings. But she'd never thought she'd never get one. Massington.


**Warning: Slightly drabble-ish. Songfic (What Hurts the Most, Rascal Flatts) **

**Well. Either way, enjoy. Feedback is always welcome. **

**Note: I know in the books, Derrick's eyes are brown, but I changed them to gray-blue for this story.**

**[Disclaimer: I do not own the Clique.]**

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><p>She'd always been a sucker for happy endings, how things always fell into place perfectly, the way two people just looked at each other and fell helplessly in love. She'd always force herself awake just so she could hear the happy ending of a fairytale, when the princess got Prince Charming and they rode off into the sunset together. She'd always been a sucker for happy endings. But she'd never thought she'd never get one.<p>

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><p>She was curled up in her favorite armchair by the window, watching raindrops streak against the glass like tears, a cup of lukewarm hot chocolate in her slender hands. She loved storms; the sound of rain slapping the ground, the roar of clouds taking over the sky, thunder echoing throughout the town. When she was little, her mother told her it rained because the angels were crying. And maybe they were. She wouldn't know.<p>

_I can take the rain on the roof of this empty house_

_That don't bother me_

_I can take a few tears every now and then just to let 'em out_

There was haunting beauty about rainstorms, how they made the world seemed to be completely gray and bleak and deserted. It excluded an hopelessness that before, she thought only existed in her heart. The landscape in front of her seemed to blur with the rain. Clouds parted above, a halo of light falling through, like a last glimpse of hope, before the air shook with thunder and the clouds knitted swiftly back together, leaving nothing but a small portion of sky, not quite blue, not quite gray, a color somewhere in between. A familiar color.

The color of Derrick Harrington's eyes.

_I'm not afraid to cry every once in a while,_

_Even though goin' on with you gone still upsets me,_

_There are days every now and again_

_I pretend I'm okay_

_But that's not what gets me_

Eyes that had searched her, waiting for her to say something, to explain, to make something come out of a frozen mouth. There was so much to say and years of waiting, but those eyes had pierced her and she froze for one second too long. Because by then, Derrick Harrington was already gone.

_What hurts the most_

_Was being so close_

_And having so much to say_

_And watching you walk away _

"Derrick."

But the name was empty, echoing harshly throughout the deserted halls, and words, years of justification, really, piled up in her mouth, yearning to be said, to be set free.

But he was gone.

And now they could never be free.

_And never knowing'_

_What could have been_

_And not seeing that loving you_

_Was what I was trying to do_

Lately, it seemed like she saw him everywhere, in a shade of blue, memories of them springing up at random, unable to block out or fight against. All she could do is take a deep breath and move on with her life, carrying the burdensome aching, torn apart thing that was her heart.

_It's hard to deal with the pain of losing you everywhere I go_

_But I'm doing it_

_It's hard to force that smile when I see our old friends and I'm alone_

_Still harder getting up, getting dressed, living with this regret,_

If she ever wanted a glimpse of the life and friendships she had so carelessly thrown away, all she had to do was look across the café. Like always, they were crowded over Table Eighteen, oblivious to the envious looks wannabes shot their way, laughing over something he was saying. Derrick wiggled his butt. A laugh caught in her throat, a hopeless feeling enveloping her. Pangs of sadness echoed throughout her tin, empty heart. If only she hadn't let him go. If only she could fix this. But she couldn' wasn't strong enough. She just threw her hands up in the air and was free falling, not knowing she was heading for rock-bottom.

_But I know if I could do it over_

_I would trade, give away all the words I save in my heart_

_That I left unspoken_

Morning air mixed with freshly mowed grass and sweat was an unusual smell, but she braved it every Tuesday and Thursday at six fifteen am, when she took up post behind the bleachers, at an angle where she was sure no one could see her. She'd watch them practice. He was always the last one to head into the changing rooms, having to pick up all the spare balls. And she'd wait and count to fifteen, pray to God for strength and start forward to talk to him, but every time she was ready, he'd toss the sack of balls over his shoulder and walk away.

_What hurts the most _

_Was being so close_

_And having so much to say_

_And watching you walk away_

After a while, she gave up trying. She stopped searching for him in the halls. She stopped writing down letters she never had the courage to send. She stopped playing sad songs and relating them to her life. But she could never stop thinking about him.

It was clear to her then. Derrick Harrington was always meant to be a part of her. And she couldn't live wholly without him.

_And never knowing_

_What could have been_

They could have had everything. But all they had was nothing. Nothing.

_And not seeing that loving you _

_Was what I was trying to do_

Now, it was years past all of that, too long to convince him he wasn't an after thought, but not too long to convince him she didn't care. She still saw his face at night, the hurt in his eyes, his lips mouthing those words that her ears never stopped hearing. Party lights threw colored shadows across his face, the music blasting throughout Skye's house seeming to fade slightly, his unreadable face sharpening into focus. She still heard the small _ping _from when he dropped those adorably cheesy soccer ball earrings on the floor. It was just quiet sound, barely heard over the booming music, but it was like someone threw a grenade in her face.

Every time she tried to talk to him, she lost the nerve. Because she knew she was going to have to say sorry. And she'd never apologized before. Her damn pride was destroying her. And now, she was sure he hated her. And she couldn't blame him. He'd worn his heart on his sleeve and she'd spat on it. But she was truly sorry she couldn't make it right.

It was too late.

_What hurts the most_

_Is being so close _

Or was it?

Her mind was reeling. She forgot about the consequences, the fact he might not care anymore, the humiliation of apologizing, that he might mock her. Ever since that night, she hadn't been quite okay. Her friends had turned against her because she didn't care anymore. Her boyfriends dumped her because she didn't care about them. Hurting Derrick Harrington ended up wounding her beyond belief.

Maybe it was the rain, the foggy illusion of desolation, but she jumped up, hot cocoa spilling over the edge and staining her, but she didn't notice.

_And having so much to say_

_And watching you walk away_

She was out of the house before she realized, hitting the wet pavement running, not even shivering in the cold. She skidded to a stop by her car. The downpour continued, soaking her to the bone. Hope in the midst of hopelessness. One last chance after a thousand dead ones. She couldn't stop.

This time, she wouldn't freeze. She wouldn't stop. She wouldn't be scared.

Because she wouldn't watch him walk away anymore.

She couldn't.

_And never knowing_

_What could have been_

Derrick Harrington had always been her work-in-progress, the story she didn't quite know the ending for, a loose string needing to be tucked in, the one she needed to put to rest.

She needed to write an ending. Because if she didn't, she could never go forward without carrying around this regret.

_And not seeing that loving you_

_Was what I was trying to do_

She hadn't ever been able to let someone in. And if she didn't let him in now, she never would.

The rain was pouring even harder now, but she couldn't feel the cold. Her eyes were fixed on the fogged glass door of his house. She could see a shape coming, a person slowly emerging.

_And not seeing that loving you_

_Yeah that's what I was trying to do_

"Massie?"

She hated how foreign her name sounded in his mouth. But looking at him, looking at those eyes, it made her breathless. Everything seemed numb.

But somehow, all those years of thinking back, planning how to say it, writing it down, all those years of trying to find the perfect way to tell him, in detail, how she felt, how everything felt strange when he wasn't there, escaped her.

"Derrick Harrington, I loved you in 8th grade and I never stopped," her tongue stuttered over the words, tripping and stumbling. "And I know there are a million things I need to say, I need to apologize for and I've been trying, but I can't seem to find the words I need to make you understand." Pleading eyes looked up at him, so full of raw emotion.

Shock.

Fear.

Vulnerability.

Desperation.

Eyes that were haunted.

Whatever high the storm had given her was fading and for a minute she wondered if this was a mistake, if her epiphany was more delusional than she cared to admit. But then he walked up to her, eyes the color of the storm, his door slamming behind him and the raining slapping at his face, wetting his hair. He cupped her already soaked and brought it up to his dry face. Two opposites. And then like that fairytale she'd always dreamed of, he kissed her in the middle of the street in the pouring rain.

And the sun came up.

_and now seeing that loving you_

_that's what i'll be tryin to do_

She'd always been a sucker for a happy ending.

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><p><em>Okay, I'll admit, not one of my bests. To be honest, this is the product of too much ice cream, midnight, a sugar-high and a kick-ass song. So yeah. Next time, I swear I'll do a bit better, but I wanted to try a one-shot that was kinda angsty but had a somewhat happy ending. <em>

_So. R&R? Thanks muchos _

_xx_

_Bree_


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